The Stark County Democrat. [volume] (Canton, Ohio) 1833-1912, 1887-03-31

sympathy. tn t could by one word rouse
a grentrn prs in your behalf, No
on,.c oIIl Why, one signal
of di tres o. art would thrill this
audienc v oily excitement If boat
in any H., or should get in distress, from
the memo war, and from the sloops, and
from the steam rs The flying paddles would
pull TO the rescue. And if now you would
lift one siunal of distress, all these voy-
ayers 0 etc nity would bear down toward
you and bring you relief. But no! you are
like a shin on fire at sea. They keep the
hatches aown, and the Captain is frenzied,
and he gives orders that no one hail the
passing ships He says: IL shall either
land This vessel in Hamburg or on the bot
tom of the ocean, and | don't care which"
Yonder is ship of the White Star line
passing. Yonder one of the National line.
Yonder one of the Cunard line. Yonder
one of the Inman line. But they know not
there is any calamity happening on that
one vessel. OH if the Captain would only
put his trumpet TO his lips and cry OUT
"Lower your boats Bear down this way!
We are burning up! Fire Fire!" No.
No. No signal is given. If that vessel
perishes, having hailed no one, whose fault
is it? Will it be the fault of the ship that
hid its calamity, or will it be- the fault of
the vessel that, passing on the high seas,
would have been glad to furnish relief If it
had been only asked? In other words, my
brother, if you miss heaven it will be your
own fault.
No one cares for your soul Why, in all
the ages there have been men whose entire
business was soul saving. In this work,
MunsOn went down under the knives of the
cannilaIs whom he had come to save,
and Robert McCheyne preached himself to
death by 30 years of age, and John Bunyan
was thrown into a dungeon in Bedford
shire, and Jehudi Ashman endured all the
malarias of the African jungle; and there are
hundreds and thousands of Christian men
and women now who are praying, toiling,
preaching, living, dying, to save souls.
No one care for your soul! Have you
heard how Christ feels about it? l know
1t was only five or six miles from Beth
lehem to Calvary, the birthplace and the
deathplace of Christ; but who can tell how
many miles it was from the throne to the
manger? How many miles down, how
many miles back again? The place of his
departure was the focus of all splendor
and pomp, all the thrones facing his throne;
his name the chorus in every song and the
1nscril on on every banner; his landing
place cattle pen, malodorous with un-
washed brutes, and dogs growing in and
out of the stable. Born of weary mother
who had journeyed eighty miles in severe
unhealth that she might find the right place
for the Lords nativity-born, not as other
princes, under the flash of chandelier,
but under lantern swung by rope to the
roof of the barn. In that place Christ
started to save you. Your name your
face, your time, your eternity, in Christs
mind. Sometimes travelling on mules
back to escape old Herod's massacre, some-
times attempting nervous sleep on the
chilly hillside, sometimes earning his
breakfast by the carpentry OF plow. In
Quarantania the stones of the field, by
their shape and color, looking like the
loaves of bread, tantalizing his hunger.
Yet all the time keeping on after you.
With drenched coat treading the surf at
Genessaret. Howled after by a blood
thirsty mob. Denounced as drunkard.
Mourning over a doomed city, while
others shouted at the sight of the simmer
ing towers. All the time coming on and
coming on to save. Indicted as being q
traitor against government, perjured wit
nesses swearing their souls away to insure
his butchery. Flogged, spit on, slapped
In the face and then hoisted on rough lum-
Der, in the sight of earth, and heaven, and
hell to purchase your eternal emancipa-
ton. From the first infant step to the last
step of manhood on the sharp spike of
Calvary journey for you. Oh, low he
cared for your soul! By dolorous arith-
metic add up the stable, the wintry
tempest, the midnight dampness, the alb
stinence of forty days from food, the
brutal Sanhedrim, the heights of Golgotha,
across which all the hatreds of earth and
all the furies of hell charged with tneir
bayonets, and then dare to say again that
no one cares for your soul.
young man might as we'll go off from
home and give his father and mother no
intimation as to where he has gone, and,
crossing the seas, sitting down in some
foreign country, cold, sick, and hungry and
lonely, saying: "My father and mother
don't care anything about me-" Do not
care anything about him! Why, that
fathers hair has turned gray since his son
went off. He has written to all the consuls
in the foreign ports, asking about that son.
Does not the mother care anything about
himp He has broken her heart. She has
never smiled since he went away. All day
5ong, and almost all night, she keeps ask
ing: "Where is hep Where can he beI"
He is the first thought in her prayer and
the last thought in her prayer, the first |
thought in the morning and the last at |
night. She says: "Oh, God, bring back |
my boy must see him again before I |
die. Where is he? l must see him again |
before l die" Oh, do not his father and |
mother care for him? You go away from |
your Heavenly Father, and you think He |
does not care for you because you will not |
even read the lett IS by which He invites |
you to come back, while all heaven |
is waiting, and waiting, and waiting !
for you to return. A young man said |
to his father: II am going off; | will |
write to you at the end of seven years and |
tell you where I am" Many years have |
passed along since that son went away. and !
for years the father has been going to the /
depot in the village, on the arrival of every
train, and when lie hears the whistle in the |
distance he is thrilled with excitement, and |
he waits until all the passengers have come
out, and then he waits until the train has
gone clear out of sight again, and then he
goes home, fastening back to the next train;
and he will be at every train until that son
comes back, unless the son waits until the
father be dead. But oh, the greater pa
hence OF God! lie has been waiting for
you, not seven years, nor nine years, but
for some of you twenty years, thirty years,
Aoly years, nIIy yehrb-Waltlng, caIllnB-I
waiting, calling until nothing but omnipo-
tent patience could have endured it, Oh,
my brother, do not take the sentiment of
my text as your sentiment. We do care for
your soul. One Sabbath night, years ago,
in my church in Brooklyn, young man
appeared at the end of the platform and he
said to me: II have just come off the
sea-" said: "When did you arrivep"
Said he: II came into port this afternoon.
was in great blow off Cape Hatteras this
last week, and I thought that might as
we'll go TO heaven as to hell. thought the
ahin Wnnld sink: hnt cir nauer verz |